Scars, Blood, Heart, Love
by Aguy55
Summary: My Chemical Romance-Frerard! A creepy angel from Science class is following Gerard around, asking him rather personal questions from why he cuts, what music he listens to. I mean, he has to be an angle, right? With his beautiful, carefully styled black hair, pale, pouting lips, piercing, knowledgeable green eyes, intriguing lip ring...what else could be be but an angle?


**A/N= For some reason, Frank and Gerard are the same age**. **Fifteen**.

"Okay, so does anyone know any famous artists they'd like to share about?" The teacher asked softly, pushing his glasses up further on his nose.

Gerard's hand snapped up quickly. This was his favorite subject! C'mon, call on him! He could feel all eyes on him and little whispers, but he couldn't care less.

But then he remembered.

Why he never raised his hand in class no matter how much he wanted to share, the reason he didn't talk to anyone but his brother, the reason he got called "emo".

_His scars. _

Gerard put his hand down in defeat, his face a little flushed.

"Gerard, were you going to say something?" The teacher asked, oblivious to the marks on his student's skin.

"Uh, no sir, I forgot." Gerard lied easily as he ducked his head. He could feel the eyes of the person next to him on him as he sketched a little, not paying attention to the class.

The person looked away, and Gerard took the opportunity to get a look at him.

He was cute, he could say that much. He had carefully styled black hair- so unlike the mess on top of his head-, intelligent green eyes and pouting pale lips. The guy was wearing eye liner and made his eyes stand out. Gerard could tell he had taken care to putting it on.

...

Gerard really didn't want to be here right now. Why couldn't they leave him alone sometimes?

"Hey, Gee-tard!"

"Emo little shit. Gonna go cut yourself when you get home?"

"Fucking gay idiot."

The taunts followed him everywhere he went. _Everywhere_. He was sick of it.

He hated it.

"Hey, guys, leave him the Hell alone!" They guy from before stood up for him. Actually, Gerard almost felt the need to laugh because of how short he was.

"Oh, and whatcha gonna do 'bout it, shorty?" The leader, it seemed, of the group strolled over, and flicked him on the forehead. The boy blinked, a little stunned. Gerard almost face palmed how had he not seen that coming?

"Hey, what's going on here?! Get the Hell home!" A teacher scolded and the group departed, leaving only Gerard and the strange boy left alone.

"Hey." The boy said quietly, scratching his cheek as they began walking.

"Hey." Gerard replied awkwardly as he tugged his sleeves.

"Um, so, you like drawing?" The boy asked, trying desperately to not look at his companion's wrists.

"Yeah." Gerard replied. Why was this kid talking to him? He desperately wanted to get home so he could light a cigarette and forget about this Hell hole with the numbing effects of nicotine and loud music. Mikey stayed after for a club or some shit, so he didn't have to worry about him for awhile.

"Uh, what music do you listen to?" The boy pressed.

"You know." Gerard shrugged, staring at the floor. "Why do you even care? I don't know you, or Hell, I don't even know your fucking name!"

"Frank." Frank answered, grinning a bit. "Good enough?"

"Ugh, that's not what I fucking ment! I mean-!" Gerard cut himself off, tugging at his hair.

"What's your name?" Frank asked.

"Gerard." Said man answered. He was really beginning to hate this kid.

"Gerard..." Frank tested the name out on his lips. "Pretty."

Pretty? Gerard had never even heard his name described like that, and certainly not by another guy!

"So, is what they say true? You're gay?" Frank asked.

So that was what this was. He was looking for a fuck buddy.

"Hell no." Gerard lied, hoping it was convincing.

"Why do you do...that?" Frank asked, his tone soft. What was with the interrogation?

Gerard shrugged. "I don't know."

"You have to know. Is it because of those guys?" Frank asked.

"No. Well, I mean, it is, but not completely." Well, it wasn't a complete lie.

"Well, they're bastards. You know you're beautiful."

"I'm not." Gerard insisted. "I'm a fucking guy who likes wearing fucking make up and dying his hair!"

"Your point?" Frank asked, listing an eyebrow and Gerard realized they were in the same boat.

Well, except for the fact that people actually _liked_ Frank.

"Yeah, but people like you!" Gerard insisted.

Frank shrugged.

Gerard was biting his lip, hoping Frank wouldn't realize the hot, wet liquid running down his face, making his eyeliner run.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked, handing Gerard a pack of make up wipes he dig out of his bag.

"No, I'm not o-fucking-kay!" Gerard snapped, taking the wipes and putting them in his pocket. "Anyway, are you planning on following me home?"

"If it'd make you feel better, yes."

"Well, It'd make me feel better if you left me a-fucking-lone!"

Of course Frank did no such thing.


End file.
